


Better Than Butter

by BuddingClover



Series: North Metro [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Anal Sex, Antisemitism, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BDSM, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Classism, Consensual Underage Sex, Consensual Violence, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Fat Shaming, Gen, Heavy BDSM, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Violence, Other, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Omniscient, Past Domestic Violence, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Violence, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Fantasy, Rape Recovery, Rape Roleplay, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex, Swearing, Tenderness, Threats of Violence, Transgender, Undead, Underage Drinking, Underage Kissing, Underage Rape/Non-con, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, Violence, economic discrimination, economic prejudice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddingClover/pseuds/BuddingClover
Summary: A collection of one-shots and short plotlines that explore a relationship between trans!Marjorine and Kenny at various points in their lives.In other words, your steady IV drip of bunny / kenutters content, from the softest of fluff to the hardest of kinks!This will definitely contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit sexual themes, between characters of various ages.  The tag-list is all-encompassing / cumulative, although not every tag applies to every chapter, and will grow as needed.  Chapters will likely not be in chronological order.
Relationships: Bebe Stevens/Wendy Testaburger, Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman, Marjorine/Kenny McCormick, Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger
Series: North Metro [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752736
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	1. Eat Your Heart Out, Dad (ACT I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Zombie Night again, which means that Marjorine bolted out the door leaving Kenny to a 12 hour marathon session of terrible, shitty zombie flicks.
> 
> Kenny's always wondered why his girlfriend won't stick around for it. After all, these are their friends, right? Isn't it great that they're still spending time together?
> 
> He's on a collision course with Marj's past, and despite all the promises he's made about never leaving, he has no idea how wholly unprepared for the truth he is.

Zombie Night always meant the same three things.

One, Craig and the rest of Those Guys would squeeze themselves next to the Boys like Tetris blocks into Kenny's shitty downtown apartment that was already barely big enough for the two people that lived there, filling every available square inch of space with junk food crumbs, near-empty cans dripping soda onto the threadbare carpet, and the acrid stench of anxiety-fueled sweat. Two, Eric, the swaggering fat-ass, would burst through his front door with all the bravado of a space marine, loudly predicting how everybody else would end up pissing themselves from whatever new camp-ass movie he'd found on Netflix (“Everybody knows that Jews have no backbone, _Kyle_!”), only for his squealing porcine cries to elicit thunderous pounding from Kenny's neighbors against the walls long into the night.

Three, fuckin' Marjorine would vanish into the night.

Well. Kenny knew that last part wasn't exactly accurate. Or fair. He knew _exactly_ where his girlfriend was when Zombie Night rolled around. Despite his best efforts and his girlfriend's usual willingness to give the benefit of the doubt, Stan had never been able to sweet talk Wendy into joining them for the 12-hour endurance test of non-stop flesh-tearing mania. Marjorine had jumped on the chance to spend time with her, so when Zombie Night finally came up Kenny would have just enough time to be surprised with a brief kiss before the front door slammed shut and she was off for another sleepover at Wendy and Stan's place. So, yeah, he knew exactly where she was. He just hated it when Marj wasn't right there within twenty steps of himself. Where he could actually do something to keep her safe.

Sometimes, Kenny wondered if the air and walls in Stan's apartment had soaked up the thick, buttery scent of his girlfriend. He'd never admit it but he used to fantasize about those sleepovers quite a bit. At least until Wendy had managed to convince her other partner to finally leave Colorado behind and get a place of her own in the city. Kenny's admittedly immature fascination with the feminine shenanigans that went on took a nose-dive once he realized that the three of them were hanging out together.

He still hadn't quite given Bebe a pass for killing him twice. Some day.

Kenny never could quite figure out where Marjorine's eye-twitching, voice-cracking, shivering _terror_ had come from when it came to the zombie shit. He could have _sworn_ that Marj was right there with the rest of the kids whenever South Park's rundown local theater would finally get a copy of some flick about the walking dead that had somehow been pitted with black scorches – and often what appeared to be claw marks? Kenny could never prove it before the theater went under early in The Boys' teenage years, but he always suspected the fucking 'Coon and his grubby little paws of having something to do with that last problem.

Mired in his wandering thoughts, Kenny didn't realize that the first of the guests had arrived until the door nearly folded in on itself under the weight of several pounding knocks. “See Kyle!? I told you Kenny was too poor to afford a doorbell!”

“Cartman...that doesn't make any _sense_ , we literally both heard it go off!”

“...Then he's obviously too poor to afford all five senses, because _he_ clearly didn't!”

Perched on the edge of his permanently stained couch (he briefly chuckled at the thought of where some of those stains had come from), arms crossed tightly over his chest, Kenny briefly considered yanking Kyle into the apartment and leaving Eric out in the hallway. Eventually he'd piss off one of Kenny's drunken neighbors enough to stab him, right? Hell, the only reason he was even allowed back anywhere _near_ Kenny and Marj's place was because Kyle had finally snapped and somehow reigned in the worst of his transgressive attitude. Not that “that poor kid with the orange parka” had gotten necessarily “PC” over the years, although some of Wendy's infectious attitudes had started to rub off on him, but Cartman had crossed a line with Marj a couple of years ago that Kenny was still sore about.

“Hold on, you dumbass, you're gonna' break my fuckin' door!” With a resigned sigh bubbling up in his chest, Kenny quickly pushed off the couch and headed over to undo the line of door locks running down along the cracked frame. Most of them had been added to the décor by Kenny's own hand, added after one of those drunken neighbors got a little too testy with Marj when she came home alone late one night and thought it'd be appropriate to try following her into their apartment. Mysterion had paid a visit to the bozo the next night, and he couldn't skip out on his lease fast enough.

Idly, his fingers laced around the old, rough brass knob, Kenny wondered if Marj had ever finished taking out the seems that little bit before things with Coon and Friends went to Hell and everyone buried their childhood heroism fantasies six feet in the dirt.

Grotesque rage echoed through his brain when he pulled the portal open and and found his vision filled with Cartman. It pierced through the heart of that thought, and of all the others in his mind at the time before violently tearing it open from the inside out and letting the shattered remnants litter the floor between the two of them. Neither moved and Kenny could almost believe from the near-instantaneous flash of fear which slipped across Eric's eyes and reflected Kenny with all the respect due a feral cat stalking in to snap up it's prey that Cartman could see those razor-sharp pieces lying between them, ready to slice up feet with every misstep.

But time was always on Kenny's side one way or another and just like those big cats he had patience to spare. He let his eyes dart quickly over Eric's stupid-ass face as he casually leaned his shoulder against the door frame. Pain nearly ripped through his chest as he struggled to contain himself at the nervous energy that rolled off of Kenny in waves. As much as he loved his friend, watching the the asshole squirm a bit was always Kenny's cover charge for still bringing Eric into his orbit. He needed to clench what felt like every muscle he had to keep the mad cackle from splitting his stoic face.

Cartman broke first. As he always did. “W-well what the fuck Kenny, are we doing Zombie Night or are we staring into each other's eyes like a couple of f-” His breath hitched at the combined heat of two piercing stares from both in front and behind him. For Kenny, it was the scorching heat of a freshly-scabbed wound tearing open again – it was comments like _that_ which had broke Marj's fucking heart and Cartman was gonna' be in for a whole new round of Hell if he forgot. He wasn't altogether sure what the deal was between Kyle and Eric these days, but he knew _enough_ . Enough to know that they had some kind of fucked up dom kink shit going down between them. Enough to know that he wanted to know exactly 0 ounces of additional details. Enough that Marjorine, goddamn beautiful, innocent, angelic Marjorine, had an entire filing case _dedicated_ to every weird-ass fetish scenario she could imagine the two of them in.

Flashes of the unspeakable evil that he just _had_ to read because he was determined to be a good boyfriend, damn him, rattled his focus and Kenny shook his head to clear it of any lingering unbidden imagery. “Y-yeah, whatever fatass, get in here and start getting shit ready.” After Cartman quietly stormed in past him, an all-too-familiar silvery glint peaking out from underneath the collar of his trademark scarlet jacket, Kenny quickly embraced Kyle once his ginger friend stepped into the main hallway of his apartment. “Fuck, man, it'll be good to spend some time with you and everybody else again. It's been too long.”

Broflovski just laughed on his way past the small dingy kitchenette – barely qualified to be a shallow alcove in the hallway wall where a fridge, sink, counter space, and stove were set in a straight line – before letting himself sink down to the couch. “I swear to God it's the only thing Stan's been talking about all _week_ dude! It really sucks that we've had to cut these so far back.”

“Ain't that the fucking truth.” Kyle's body followed his friend, although his downward trajectory included less steady sinking and more sudden falling as though he'd simply stopped holding himself on his feet. The laugh that bubbled out of him at Kyle's irritated glance when the violent movement bounced him had a boyish edge to it, and eventually the both of them were cackling. “What are at now, once a month? We were doing this once a _week_ , that was the life.” His immediate answer was a quiet hum that empathized with his new melancholic attitude.

“I guess we all just got busy. Craig's wrapped up in his management job tighter than that mummy that wanted to shack up with Marj that Halloween, which means Tweak is right there with him.” Belying the disgusted tremor in Kyle's voice, a playful grin tugged at his lips. “Can you imagine that? Your own little personal caffeine machine following you around work all day like a lost puppy.”

Kenny _had_ imagined that. Quite a bit, actually. Usually replacing Tweek and Craig with Marj and himself. The idea had its merits. His own personal secretary that worked for free (well, if you discounted PDA) that would manage all the grunt work for him and eagerly waited for him to bend her over his d-

“What'd you think about that Facebook update last week?”

Kyle laughed and shook his head in amusement and disbelief. “I think 'Tweek Tucker' is going to be a _horrible_ name, but they didn't ask me.” His face took on a harder edge as he glanced up the hallway towards the racket Cartman was making getting the snacks ready. “And I'm gonna' make sure _he_ keeps any remarks like _that_ to himself, if his name is even on the invitation.”

“Kyle, I don't know how you finally managed to do it, but I honestly don't doubt it.” Silence fell between the two friends, but it was a companionable one while it lasted. “Fuck, man, I'm _glad_ you figured out how to control him. I may still be pissed at him, but the four of us have so much history that it'd suck _balls_ if that was how it started falling apart.”

Whatever Kyle had to say in response died quickly on his tongue when several bowls of chips, dip, and popcorn were loudly plunked down on the already-chipped oval surface of the particle-board coffee table. “Jesus Christ dude, have you ever heard of a steak!? Your fridge is like a rabbit's wet dream. How long are you going to let-” Cartman's breath hitched at the first syllable of one name before quickly sliding into another “- _Marjorine_ drag you through this leafy Hell!?”

Insensitive remarks earning him another stern look from his companion (Partner? Boyfriend? Hatefucker? Kenny wasn't sure), one that he pointedly chose to ignore, Eric settled himself down on the far end of the couch with the clear intention _not_ to move for the rest of the night except hopefully for the bathroom. _Well_ , Kenny mused, _looks like everybody else is on the floor again_ . He schooled the lazy grin off of his face before fixing his round friend with an exasperated, but resigned, expression. “For as long as she decides. Well, for as long as her _guts_ decides. She still spews chunks all over the wall when she eats so much as a chicken nugget.”

Green spread brightly across Kyle's face, the tinge of disgust at the mental image competing with concern for dominance over his face. “Is she...going to be okay? What'd her doctor say about it?”

“...She'll be fine.” Kenny's eyes and mouth were pulled back taut with anxious frustration. “It's not like she isn't eating good, heh. Well, good enough at least that she decided she isn't gonna' need implants, if you know what I mean.” To lighten the mood, he brought both hands up to his chest and made as though to squeeze a pair of imaginary breasts. After the three of them eventually came down from their childish cackling, Kenny pressed himself deep into the back cushions with an explosive sigh. “Anything more than that, I think she should be the one to say anything about it. We're still working on it.”

Eric opened his mouth to say something – probably offensive about Marj's mental health – but the next series of thankfully-far-lighter knocks interrupted him and rescued Kenny from a suddenly awkward conversation. Luckily his little Butter Bunny had made her departure hours earlier, he casually mused on his way back to the door. She just did _not_ seem to get that sometimes discretion was the better part of valor and likely would have dragged the both of them into a long, tear-fueled admission about the steady stream of therapists, psychiatrists, and fucking bullshit _faith healers_ that had swindled them out of so much time and money. And the last thing he needed right now was for Cartman to have yet _another_ bullseye on Marjorine's back to zero in on.

Craig, Tweek, and Token broke out of whatever conversation they were having when the door opened, boisterously greeting Kenny with fist bumps and back slaps. Clyde arrived shortly afterwards, followed by the rhythmic tapping of Jimmy's crutches against the door not twenty minutes later. Once Stan managed to extricate himself from Wendy's arms and hop the train over, everybody settled themselves in for a loooong night of trying to figure out who was screaming the loudest – the piss-poor B-list actors desperately smashing themselves against these shitty direct-to-stream thriller flicks, or Cartman.

Kenny's arm twitched, muscle memory taking over and priming his body to coil the tender, clinging weight that so often curled up against his side when binging some ridiculous series or another. Thankfully it didn't appear that any of the other guys had noticed. Still, it bit a little deeper into his chest than he would probably be willing to say – even to her – the Marjorine worked so hard to be anywhere _but_ with him and their friends.

Something bitter and burning squirmed it's way up the back of Kenny's throat.


	2. Eat Your Heart Out, Dad (ACT II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I just wanted to let you know that my next Bunny chapter should be out by this coming weekend!
> 
> Sorry for the delay - and for not getting the first chapter of "Would You Believe I Could SAVE You?" up yet, life's been a little hectic and my depression & gender dysphoria have been in full swing. Wheeee! 🙃. The good news is that I have another appt with my Endo in a couple of days to add progesterone to my cocktail, which hopefully will help even things out for me physically and psychologically.
> 
> I need to do a lot of proof-reading and editing on Act I of "Eat Your Heart Out, Dad," so keep an eye on that in the next couple of days for grammar fixes and maybe a little bit of content!
> 
> Stay kinky everybody!

Act II will be uploaded by 7/13!


	3. A gLItCH In the System

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suspicious but intrigued, the lone hero Mysterion answers a desperate, sobbing call for help from Professor Chaos. The Professor has been crossing paths with him more and more lately - at this point replacing the Coon as his arch-nemesis - so why did he answer the phone at 2:30 in the morning? Why did he go when this is so obviously a trap?
> 
> Why can't he get the soul-rending ache out of his bones from the absolute fear in Chaos' voice...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!
> 
> I know that this is both late and NOT the chapter I said I was gonna' be working on, but I had a really cute idea for another bunny one-shot that I had to get out of my skull! xD
> 
> This one takes place in South Park proper, before all of "Eat Your Heart Out, Dad." I'm guessing by 5 - 10 years? In EYHOD, the characters are all in their 20's about and in college; in this chapter, they're in their teens and in still in HS in South Park.
> 
> Now this is just a sample of my first draft, when the full chapter gets released expect a lot more detail, but I wanted to share SOMETHING with everyone since I was a mean, lying bitch and made you all wait like two months for more Bunny content. 🥺

For a lanky brat who'd challenged C'thulu to a fistfight, something about the sunken, down-cast eyes and nervous, anxiously-kissing knuckles from the rotting corpse in front of him still somehow managed to feel so _perversely intimate_ – and infuriatingly exhaustive. Mysterion could answer the grotesquely innocent image with no more than a low grown as he shoved a hand straight into his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. What words can you find when your freakishly-enticing weird frienemy-unexpected-but-not-unwelcome-arch-nemesis nearly deafens your ear with terrified sobbing over the phone.

“Okay, Chaos, I'm going to walk myself through this one more time, okay?” Well, there were a few. Once the grim hero had found those, others quickly settled into their proper place at the stilted, jerking nod. He couldn't quite parse out why the anxious tears that still threatened to spill out with each of those sudden movements tightened his chest until it ached.

“You needed to 'change something.' But you won't tell me what it is.”

“Ooooh, golly, M-Mysterion, it's not like that! I just – I just _can't_!” The Professor's hands opened wide and flailed rapidly between their two faces, but they couldn't quite move fast enough to conceal the embarrassed frustration that erupted from the corner of those blue eyes, hollowed and dulled with the greyish film of undeath as they were, in the form of beading tears. Icy fingers from that clenching force wrapped themselves around Mysterion's heart at the sight of this desperate shame.

“OK – Chaos, OK! It's...fuck it, it's fine. I don't need to know.” He slowly closed the small gap between them, each step cautious and exaggerated so as to not startle the Professor's already frayed nerves. Sure, when dealing with the sorts of eldritch horrors whose energies virtually _radiated_ off of the walking cadaver, stitching together as full a picture of what he was dealing with was best, but he made due with the excuse that watching someone who he had acted so violently towards so many times before act this – well, there was no other word for it than _vulnerable –_ was beyond mortifying for the both of them. Even so much as considering the possibility that the gripping sensation in his core could hold any other meaning was simply far too world-shattering a threshold for Mysterion to cross right now. Instead of pressing for more details, then, he gently slipped his gloved fingers around the semi-exposed bones of the Professor's wrists to bring those hands down.

Holy shit, were these wrists always so...delicate? Had they always shaken so viciously when the Professor was afraid? How many times had they devolved into these uncontrollable tremors at the sight of the teenaged hero? Mysterion shoved the uncomfortable weight of that thought to the darkest, deepest holes inside his death-addled mind, quickly and without ceremony. He could unpack _that_ can of emotional worms on his own time.

“Alright, Chaos, so you had to make some kind of change.” Silence lapsed between them as Mysterion waited for a sullen nod. “And in order to make that change, you decided in your infinite wisdom that you needed to research black magic.” Another sniffle, another gesture of assent. “But you had to hide it away from your par-,” the grey-clad hero's voice hitched quickly, “...Away from your 'benefactors,' who – rightfully this time, I might add – would take a dim view of you fucking around with dangerous magic spells.” Mysterion distantly mused as he morbidly watched the lazy swing in the Chaos' jaw when silent, hanging in place on only one side by a few tense strips of gangrenous flesh, that any more forceful a nod might send the damn thing flying across the computer- and alchemy-littered storage facility. “So you spent the last few months kidnapping and enslaving the wealthiest Silicone Valley CEO's to force them to help you build this vile blasphemy of a science experiment?”

“...Uh, w-well, _geez_ Mysterion, did you really have to go and make me sound like such a tool?”


End file.
